Seem to Darken as We Go // [Thistle/Mace Blitz]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: THISTLE CARDO OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: D10 <3

Mace was up to his ears in dirty diapers. He snapped the velcro around Mason's bloated tummy, kicked the diaper pail closed, and then lifted the mostly naked little boy to his chest. With one hand he swabbed down the changing table, cleaned what he could of himself and then turned to find Juliet with a block crammed into her mouth. "Spit it out," he growled. When that didn't work, he resorted to his favorite bribe. "It's snack time."

She was still too little to walk properly, to speak any more babble, to comprehend compound sentences. But snack time. That she understood. And so he did. He scooped her up with his free hand, balancing her against his side. What he wouldn't have given for an extra pair of hands. He'd become so used to help. From Sewanee, Reggie, Halle, all the myriad servants the Bryzes employed. But none of them could accompany them to the Capitol, and he had long since alienated Olive, Ten's escort. So while Julian mentored, Mace was left with two babies who ruled his life.

What wouldn't he have given? Well mentorship, for one. He didn't even feel relieved that Saffron had the responsibility for the 66th. He felt he deserved it, had earned the break. Whenever Thistle or Aurora looked his way, he reached for a bottle or mumbled something about bath time. Mason was ever at his side, often slung across his chest. Juliet was never far. It turned out that all the grousing and swearing didn't deter people as effectively as infants. He'd gone almost all week without having more than a cursory conversation with either tribute. Or with Saffron, for that matter. It seemed when she wasn't mentoring, she wasn't in Ten's suite either. He seriously considered sending Kieran to find out what how she was spending her time.

Even snack time was quiet. In the dining room, an array of mushed vegetables and fruits had been left for his children, and slightly heartier fare for himself. He dropped Juliet into a high chair, and then spooned a little of this and that into a bowl. She was a mess in seconds. From the small fridge, he pulled a bottle of baby formula and a wedge of hard cheese for himself. He sat the head of the table, ready for a few moments of quiet while Juliet plowed through her food, when he heard a door open.

He tried not to sound as sleep deprived as he felt when he said, "in the dining room, love." Because who else could it be?

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[Deleted]

T H I S T L E C A R D O
SEVENTEEN || DISTRICT 10"

Large fingers clasped the small and elegant journal I carried, running along every one of the cracks that ran across the leather surface. It hadn't been hard to get, a simple request to Olive that had put that signature scowl across her face. When was it not there, for christ's sake. Sleep had come and gone for him. It wasn't as if he couldn't sleep. No, his body would shut down when his head hit the pillow no matter how nervous he was. Exhaustion triumphed all, in that case. But nightmares triumphed exhaustion, and the times he'd woken up in cold sweat and shaking during his stay here was pitiful.

And then the regret started.

It was sad, in a way, that he had so few regrets in his life, and yet the ones he did have ruled his mind, his world whenever he retreated into his room for the night. Mainly, the regret of not using his voice. The Avoxes here had made him realize just how important his voice was, which had clearly shown in his Private Training Session. Regret had come up as he recalled the final moments with his family, those futile five minutes each with each one of his family members. He'd said what? Five, ten words at the most to them? Anna had ran into the room screaming, fighting off the peacekeepers with surprising strength. She'd ran to him screaming, trying to make him promise to come home and yet all he'd done is stare at her, watched her get dragged away out of the room.

Homesickness had gotten the best of me, and the journal in my hands would combine with the pen in his pocket to create a single letter home. Apologizing, talking about whatever I wanted. But I wouldn't promise to come home. No, that was impossible. Grasping the metal door handle, I twist it and slowly open the door, a slight creak echoing through the dining room. It was empty, I was sure of it. It mostly always was at this time. "In the dining room, love." I stop dead in my tracks as his voice rings out, tired and deprived. Mace Emberstatt, another victor of the games and one that I had hardly spoken to this entire time. In truth, i'd expected him instead of Saffron as a mentor, yet disappointment hadn't shown when i'd seen her. For a moment I consider slowly closing the door, leaving Mace to whatever he wanted to do, but my voice instead escapes my body, calling out to him. "I-I'm sorry Mister Emberstatt. It's Thistle... I'll leave if you'd like me to."

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[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: THISTLE CARDO OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: D10 <3

A hint of relief wormed its way around his belly, his aching core, at the thought of Julian joining them for lunch. It was such a rare occurrence, with his busy schedule. If he wasn't mentoring, Julian was wanted elsewhere. For a photo shoot, or an interview, or a fitting. The Capitol wanted to dote on him, every second of every day. Mace didn't envy the demands; just the time strangers got to spend with the love of his life.

So when another voice interrupted his relief, a distant cousin of hope, Mace's pouty mouth twisted into a frown. Thistle Cardo. He did not belong to Mace, the way Mantel and Damion and he, he, he - he cannot think his name. And even though Thistle was decidedly, demonstratively, Saffron's responsibility, Mace could not dismiss him out of hand.

I'll leave, if you'd like me to.

Mace looked up, grey eyes sweeping over the formidable tribute. He might have done just that. Stared him down until he broke. But Juliet, painted with peas and carrots, pinched all of her fingers on her right hand together, and tapped them to her mouth. More. He shook his head. She repeated the gesture. More, more, more. Isn't that what they all wanted? More?

He kept his gaze level with Thistle which in itself was a rarity. Mace stood, availed himself of more mushed vegetables, and put the refilled bowl in front of his filthy daughter. He lifted a knife, dropped it into the liver paté. This was not his job. And yet. He had once wanted more. Once stalked Topaz and Arbor, admired Ara from afar. But in the end, it wasn't any of them who helped him attain more. It was his brothers. Denver the brave, Aesop the romantic, and her.

He put the back of his hand to his forehead, grey eyes fogged over. No matter how much more he wanted, it would never be enough. Not for Alexander. Not for the empty place she held in his heart. "You can stay. Better eat while you can. You ever had paté?" He finally let the knife go, carving another slice of the soft meat mush, smearing it over a cracker. He put it on a gold-rimmed plate and held it out to the tribute. "Stuff is the shit." Mace leaned back, proud of himself for sharing such an important discovery. And then he remembered the sleeping boy strapped to his chest, his mouth still wrapped around a bottle, and the near-toddler in a high seat. "Don't repeat that." He counseled Juliet, a better father to her than the absent mentor he'd been to Thistle. And Aurora.

Mace sighed. "You got any questions about the Games? I don't got good answers. You're better off asking Saffron, or Julian, whenever he's around. Better the devil you know, right?" He flashed a grin, felt how strange it hit on his face, let it disappear. "So hit me. What can I do to help?"

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[Deleted]

T H I S T L E C A R D O
SEVENTEEN || DISTRICT 10"

I don't know how I feel standing here, watching the victor and waiting for an answer. Awkward? There was small hints of it that ran through my mind. Of course, it was nearly impossible not to feel awkward in a situation like this, standing as Mace, a man I hadn't said three words to before and his children relaxed. Nervous? That wasn't even a question, nerves swam inside him and pounded at his stomach constantly. Yet, Mace's stare still manages to strike deep down into me, grey eyes scanning, studying me before he turned to his daughter. But still, this scene felt oddly... normal to me. A family, sitting in their dining room and enjoying a meal.

And normality was something I both loved and hated at the moment.

"You can stay." You'd think i'd have felt some sort of relief that the man had granted me access to stay here, but I hardly feel anything. Did he really want me here? Probably not, but could he tell a tribute no when asked simply if the tribute could stay? I doubted it.

I try to relax as Mace holds out the plate to me, it's gold rim reflecting the light and showing just how privileged the Capitol was. I nod in thanks, forcing myself to answer his simple question. "No... Never had paté." Considering I was from the district of livestock, i'm sure it sounded weird. But then again, this was the Capitol we were in, I came from a poor District Ten family, not so many chances to eat the fancy Paté back in my district.

"You got any questions about the Games? I don't got good answers. You're better off asking Saffron, or Julian, whenever he's around. Better the devil you know, right?" I stare at him with a blank look, relaxing slightly as I take a bite of the paté Mace had given me.

Over in the corner, his kid squeals, a mess of vegetables and happiness. Happiness, that was something I would love right now. I had everything else but that, i sit down across from Mace, my brow furrowing slightly as I try to think of something. "Mace.. Can I ask what your games were like? I saw them on t.v... But I just.. I don't know if i'm mentally ready for these..." Would I ever be ready, really? I highly doubted it, no matter how many questions I asked, answers I received, how much I prepared.

"Mace, is it alright if I write while we talk?" I hold the notebook and cautiously removed the pen from my pocket, it's gold color standing out against the dark tabletop.

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